Lips Like Morphine
by brellie-chan
Summary: A late vampire named Gerard decides his "life" mission is protecting Frank, a young human. When he finds the beautiful vampire that changed him, though, he finds himself torn between mortal love--and a man that won't easily let him go. Frerard *ON HIATUS*
1. Chapter 1

I peered into the mirror, half expecting to see nothing.

Aesthetically, I realized, the change was to my advantage. My skin was far paler than any makeup artist's touch; there was a deep red unattainable by eyeshadow under my eyes; the eyes themselves were dark, deep, filled with the enigmatic mystery of immortality... what I'd always coveted in vampires.

Yes, vampires. The change is quick, but very painful, and the empty feeling where your heart had been—where your _soul_ had been—is not worth the agony of transformation.

However, I didn't know that then, in my young and impressionable human state, and that it was that state that the hunters in nightmares dreamed of—tender, young flesh, opening so easily under razor sharp teeth, spilling its crimson elixir.

Because of this, I was easily drawn in to the the shadow stalker's trap.

* * *

Hi everyone. My name is Brellie, and I like grammar. This is my first real fanfic, so any tips are well-loved. . .

Also, reviews are made of cookie :D


	2. Chapter 2

I remember it vividly. He laughed as I walked through my usual shortcut, through a used car lot near my apartment. I looked around, immediately wary. I had lived in New Jersey long enough to know that I was no match for an average Jersey criminal.

He glided into the outermost ring of light from the lamp I stood near. Even from there, I saw he was smiling. For a brief moment, I wondered if he was a salesman who had stayed late.

"Gerard. . ." He said my name like he was tasting it, savoring the syllables. I swallowed dryly and stepped back a little.

"Who are you?"

His smile became wicked. I heard him almost purr in the dim light. "Your every dream."

With that he slid into the light, and I saw how pale he was, saw the red beneath his eyes, which were crimson themselves. I turned to run, but felt his arms slide around my waist. He turned my body towards him, running his hands up and down my back. My body was forced to collapse onto him; I was helpless. A cold fear settled in my stomach, and I realized that I was about to die.

"Come now, Gerard," he whispered in my ear. "I thought you _wanted_ a man that could support you."

I shivered, remembering the words I'd shouted at my (now ex) boyfriend just an hour before. I tried feebly to pull out of his arms, gasped as his icy hand slipped up under my shirt.

"Calm down. This won't. . . well, actually, I'll be honest. This is going to hurt a lot." he laughed, and I remember that it was a clear, sweet noise, a noise that clashed horribly with the creature it emanated from.

He pulled me into the darkness. I heard glass break, and I was laid down across the back seat of a car. I found myself unable to speak, or really make any sound at all.

He kneeled over me, still smiling. He pulled my shirt over my head, and I realized the situation I was in. I immediately tried to push him off of me again, tried to turn away, to pull away, anything to _escape the horror of what was about to happen to me AGAIN—_

He took my arms and pressed them above my head. His smile had morphed into a smirk. He knew that I knew, and I've no doubt my fear smelled _delicious_.

He secured my hands with a seat belt, then proceeded to rid me of my pants and boxers, my jacket having been discarded in the lot. He let his eyes wander down my quaking form, his smile returning in full force. I watched in terror as he began to slowly undo the buttons down his chest. He dropped the shirt off of his shoulders like a robe, and began toying with the button on his pants. I closed my eyes and resorted to praying, although I knew it wouldn't do any good.

He gently levered my legs apart, leaning forward to press a freezing kiss on the tip of my length. I began to harden, to my disgust. He ran his tongue up my underside. I shook, and tilted my hips before remembering where I was. He looked up for a moment, flicked his tongue across my tip, before bobbing his head down on my now hard shaft. I moaned, and he nipped gently as he pulled away.

A sudden movement, and he pushed into me sharply. I arched my back and screamed. I heard him chuckle.

"Don't be sad, pretty Gerard. It'll all be over soon."

I writhed miserably, feeling his icy length still inside me. He moaned as I moved, and pulled out, only to thrust in again more violently. I screamed again, and tears began to run down my cheeks—tears I hadn't noticed arrive.

After that he began a steady rhythm, pushing in and giggling as I whimpered. The pain lessened as time wore on, and I smelled sex and blood in the air. He seemed to get more and more riled, and eventually began to up the speed again, until he was rocking my body with the force of his thrusts.

Suddenly he did the worst thing he could have done under the circumstances: he hit my prostate. My back arched again, and I gasped. My cheeks flushed; I was embarrassed that he'd gotten such a reaction. I tried to steel myself, but too late. He'd noticed my favorable reaction, and was endeavoring to get another. He changed his angle, forcing himself deeper with every push. He hit again—and again—and again—and each time, I couldn't help but cry out in pain and pleasure, arching my back or tilting my hips to allow him in further.

Suddenly, he cried out and jammed into me, making me scream again. He filled me, and grinned wickedly. The tears came back again, unbidden.

He leaned forward, and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me, but his lips found my throat—just before his teeth did. I screamed all over again. He rocked his hips back and forth, moving inside me, forcing his hands under my back, pulling my body closer as he drained it. His tongue ran over the wound his teeth inhabited, and he took another long drought from my throat.

His fingers toyed with my nipples and length, gripped my hips, pulling me up and down on his sex. The pain mixed with the unbelievable pleasure I garnered from the touches. I mewled softly, losing the strength to do anymore than that. My hands flexed in the knot above my head. He touched my stomach, running his fingers up to my breast.

He abandoned my throat and I heard fabric tear as he pulled one of my hands down, resting his lips against my wrist. I shivered as he pulled out of me for the last time. His teeth pierced the thin skin on my inner wrist, and I realized he was trying to finish me off. He didn't want me to come looking for him someday.

Suddenly I lost all strength, couldn't even think clearly. I felt him let go of my wrist, run his fingers along my length, press a kiss to my lips. The world went black.

* * *

Ugh. These chapters are gonna be hella short, I'm already warning you.

Review and I can pass out cookies!


	3. Chapter 3

I awoke about six hours ago. I knew what had happened. I remember pain, and slipping in and out of consciousness. I remember days of this. I went out and hunted. I discovered that the car lot where I'd been raped and eaten was a crime scene; "someone" had broken into one of the cars, and it was full of blood and cum.

As you can imagine, this was highly amusing to me.

Now I stand before a mirror, remembering all of this misery. I wonder if it would be wise to hunt down the bastard that pressed this existence on me. It isn't terrible, but. . .

I don't feel anything much for killing the man that tried to jump me. He tasted foul, but I don't feel a bit bad. And I know he was drained. I made _sure_.

I lick my lips. I wrinkle my nose. I close my eyes, then open them. I move each finger separately. I smell the air.

I smell oil. I smell salt water. I smell people. I smell a woman's lapdog in her purse. I smell a man's paper-cut, leaking out of his generic latex band-aid. I smell the fire from the piston of a passing car's engine. I smell my brother.

What?

I turn around. This is not possible.

I can hear almost as well as I can smell. He didn't come in.

I move through the rooms of my apartment silently, zoning in on the scent.

I finally find the source. I feel foolish. He left yet another hat at my place. I should give it to him—wait.

I put the hat on my head. I look I the mirror again. I've never been good at wearing hats. This one is all right. I look around. It is time for me to leave. I need to purchase something to sleep in. It is getting late; I can almost see the sun.

* * *

I stand. It is dusk. I have an hour to prepare my self for the evening. I am hungry, and I believe it is time to leave New Jersey. I have wanted to leave this wretched state my entire life, and now that I am faced with immortality, I can't sit here any longer.

I put on a black button-up. I slide into a pair of black jeans that used to seem ridiculously tight. I don my sweet brother's hat. I step into a pair of dress shoes and make my way to the used car lot. I've left a letter to my brother, and one for my good friend Matt. They will never understand, I pray. I hope Mikey doesn't mind me taking his hat. Or Matt his belt.

I steal the most likely looking car, a gray Jetta. I steal some license plates off a similar model. I pull up next to a nightclub.

The music is painfully loud, the smells make it hard to focus. I wonder why it is so easy for me to control myself.

I choose a boy with blue hair, here with his boyfriend. As soon as his boyfriend leaves him alone, I slide into a seat next to him at his table. I smile charmingly.

He is easy to fool. I do not need to force him. He follows me up some stairs; there are bedrooms. I know this; this is my usual spot. It is his first time here.

I kill him silently. His screams pass as cries of ecstasy.

I wonder again as to the identity of my murderer. I would like to meet him someday. Perhaps he will touch me the way he did before. I do not know. I likely never will.

I leave. I purchase curtains. I put them in my car. I drive all night.

I drive into the woods at daybreak. I close my curtains. I climb into my coffin, which lies across the back seat and trunk. I need a bigger car.

* * *

It is late in the evening. I have sated myself upon a woman camping by herself.

I smirk. Ah, the dangers of being alone in this world.

* * *

Okay, so I'm posting this damn thing as I find it, so. . . keep in mind that it was written about two years ago, so I'm guessing the crazy homones were why it's so. . .sex-centred, yeah? I dunno. . . I like it, but I should probably edit the hell out of it.

'Cuz I haven't been doing that.

Also! I know there's people reading this, so please review. I would really, really like some feedback.

And if you don't, Gerard WILL come to your house and drink all your blood.

muahaha


	4. Chapter 4

Alright, so, it's been awhile since I was on cuz of school and other stuff, but. . . I am back. You may applaud.  
Seriously though, I have some excuses to make. This thing was written when I was like 13 so its a little sex-centred (thanks, hormones) sooo. . . forgive me.

BTW, angie: I dig that you're guessing about the bad guy! It makes me feel like a good author :P I hope to get the whole thing on here but I have to chapter hunt in the tornado wreckage I call my room.

Okay, I want at least two reviews or I won't add any more.  
Not because I'm needy but because I don't want to post shtuff that nobody's going to read.

Onward!!

* * *

I sat down heavily. My day had pretty much reached the ultimate in suckitude. My band fell apart, I had no money, I was getting evicted, and the guy I thought I was in love with just dumped me after telling me he had been cheating on me.

I looked around at the shitty apartment I called home. I knew I wasn't going to be able to move in with my dad. He was still pissed that I dropped out of college for Pencey Prep. My mom barely had the money to support herself, so that was out of the question.

Geoff? No. Leeli? Nope. Mikey? Nah, he lived with his parents. Toro? Maybe. _Maybe_ maybe.

I put my head in my hands.

My name is Frank. I'm short, I'm green-eyed, I'm dark haired, and I play rock 'n' roll music.

Or rather, I did. Things aren't going to the plans I had for Pencey Prep.

Sighing, I gathered my guitar, Pansy, and a bag of clothes. I stood at the door with a guitar on my back and a satchel at my side, took one last look around my apartment.

With a sigh and a touch of nostalgia, I walked out.

* * *

I learned a lot in those first couple weeks. I learned what "do you swing" means. I learned the right angles to tilt my hips, when I was on the bottom _or _the top. I learned how to use my tongue to make men moan. I learned how to make men _scream._

I also learned how to tell a tender lover from a boy-beater. It's something about their eyes, how they run up or down my body. How they talk when I get in a car. How they grin when they see me.

I didn't set out to become a prostitute. It just sort of _happened._ I asked at Toro's, but he was having money troubles himself. I had to head back, so I tried to hitchhike.

Some guy pulled up. I noticed him checking me out, but I didn't think anything of it.

He rolled down the passenger window and said, "You swing?"

I blinked, not comprehending. He sighed.

"Hop in."

I slid into the seat, Pansy flipped off my back with prowess. She sat between my legs usually, but this guy said, "Chuck 'er in the back." I blinked again, but slid my guitar in the backseat with my bag. He drove down the on-ramp onto the highway.

"You ready yet?"

I looked over at him. He was pulling off the highway, turning on to a side street. I swallowed. He pulled up in front of some house and unbuckled. It wasn't until he moved to straddle me, unlatching my seat belt, that I figured out what was happening to me.

He released the seat's catch, and it flew back as he pressed his lips to mine roughly. I responded hesitantly, afraid. This wasn't what I had planned on at all! He put a hand up my shirt and tweaked my nipple, making me arch toward him. He pulled his mouth away.

"Am I gonna have to do all the work or are you gonna make it worth my money?"

I thought hard. I knew all the shit about STDs and all that shit. I knew what could happen—but I also knew that money was hard to come by easy, and playing my guitar on street corners wasn't making much. I decided hesitating again.

"Depends, " I said. "How much you gonna pay?"

"Depends."

I smirked. Time to be sexy. I licked my lips thoughtfully. "Forty-eight an hour."

He nodded. I grabbed a belt loop and pulled him down for another kiss. I didn't realize then that it would change my life . . . forever.

* * *

Lawl. Corny ending for the win.


	5. Chapter 5

Lol, well, I've discovered the last part of the story I'd had written before. . . So I'm going to have to write the rest of it from memory after this o.O It should be highly entertaining to any watching.

lol

Angie: Sorry, it's going to take even longer for me to get them up from here on. *wince* Sorry.

You Put The Hate In My Heart: Meh. . .*glower* Point out MY mistakes! Lol.

The Anti-Drug: Thanks a bunch. Please, keep reading! It'll only get better! Honest!

* * *

Weeks have passed. I have given it much thought. My fate lies somewhere in Jersey. I wish to return home, see my brother perhaps. Although he will not see me. Ever, I hope.

I am driving down the highway near my old house, where Mikey and my parents still live. Suddenly, something made me decide to take a different off-ramp than normal.

As I pull up to a red light at the top of the ramp, my eye is caught by a beautiful boy standing with a guitar. He looks like a normal hitchhiker, but. . .

He stands like a prostitute. I am piqued. I pull up next to him. He looks at me with a practiced eye.

"I'm headed to wherever you can take me."

I lean forward, pulling the pretty thing into my gaze. "I'll take you anywhere."

He smirks at me. I want him. Now.

He is about to sit, and I tell him to put his things in the back. I'm driving a truck, with a canopy. The small car did not work. He drops his bag unceremoniously, but lays the guitar with love. I smile. I want him even more, but I can wait as long as I need to. He will be mine—and I do not intend to ruin him.

I cannot have him and let him go. He will know of my true nature. The cold will give me away.

I _can _have him and keep him, though. I touch a finger to my lip thoughtfully as he climbs into the cab.

* * *

Frank

He's the most gorgeous guy I've ever seen. I've seen a lot of guys, and he is most definitely the most gorgeous. I look at him out of the corner of my eye. He's got a hat on—an oddly familiar hat, I might add—and has a finger up at his lip. It makes him oddly appealing.

His skin is so pale, I'm almost worried he's a druggie. But he speaks so calmly I don't think I have to bother. His eyes are weird, though. Dark. Deeper than anyone else's that I've met. And he's really thin, with thin lips and thin, high brows. He's got dark hair poking out from under his hat, and I would bet that if I touched it, it would be really soft and sleek.

I realize that I'm turned completely to stare at him, and turn away quickly. He chuckles.

"I wouldn't worry too much. If I could, I would too," he says suddenly, his soft voice making me jump. I look over at him again, only to find his eyes. '_He's looking at me, too'_, I think.

My mind gets a little muddled as his eyes hold mine. My body heats up as I imagine those eyes widening slightly, that perfect mouth opening in a gasp as I push hard, harder, _harder_, he cries out. . . I try to clear my mind slightly. He's got his face to the road again, but he looks a bit amused. He's everything I want; so what? He seems like an uke, but he'll insist on topping anyway, watch.

We come to a red light. He turns to me again.

"What is your name?"

* * *

OOOOOOOOOHHHH!!!!! What will he say, I wondah? Don't you want to know?????  
If sooooooo. . . COMMENT!!! lol


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